Still Remains
by Evide
Summary: twins' birthday tribute; Kouichi's mother has fallen ill, which in itself is not uncommon. But is it simply another sickness this time, or a premonition for trials to come? 2-part drabble written for roleplay
1. Part 1

Original content published fallingdarknesswarrior (tumblr)

_Sound of Silence_ credited to Simon & Garfunkel  
_Little Wonders_ Rob Thomas

Digimon Frontier credited to Toei Animation

* * *

. . . .

A shushing sound ran from the faucet, Kouichi hypnotized to his task. Fingers strayed atop the curving handle as his other hand slowly soaked up warm water with a soft cloth. The angular piece of cotton dripped at the edges, and the boy soon pressed the tap off, holding the bandanna in careful palms.

Padding to the backroom, Kouichi lifted out of his trance at the sound of soft coughing. They were muffled, but ragged, and each rough noise rippled through him just as painfully as they sounded. But he swallowed the sadness like a metal ball in the back of his throat, and stepped through the threshold with a small smile. Outwardly, nothing was wrong, yet his chest and heart felt like it was about to burst.

"Oh… thank you, sweetie." Her voice made his eyebrows press together, her pale visage strewn atop the sheets painting a picturesque view. Yet he wasn't able to appreciate the beauty for the worry draped between them as thick as curtains.

"Do you need anything else?" Kouichi caressed the sides of his mother's temples with the bandanna. Up so close, she had never seemed to sick before. He could smell the mixture of sweat and breakfast on her mouth, germinating into a sickening mist so thick he thought he might never reach her through it. But the edges of her cracked lips smiled and comforted him in their familiar turn, a familiar sight he could never get tired of.

She smoothed the ends of her fingers into his hair, eyes slightly glazed from fever. "No, baby. I'll be just fine now, thank you."

Kouichi was afraid to take her hand. That if he held it, the skin would shatter under his fingers as frail as flower petals. But he touched her arm and held it anyway, comparing it's withering strength to the memory of others. The skin was slightly wrinkled, and as he thumbed over the knuckles he decided he wouldn't worry about her hand slipping from his just yet.

"Okay, mom." The space between them paused, a precious sunlight wafting through the half-drawn windows. Fresh air chased away any stale atmosphere, and Kouichi made sure to pull an extra blanket up over her shoulder. She shifted in, comfortable, and Kouichi saved her a loving glance before leaving her side to draw the curtains closed, and inviting soft shadows to caress the room. As she rested, Kouichi was sure to shoo away the nightmares from her fever.

That was all he could do. So he left soon, barely shutting the door behind him.

The rest of the home was lonesome, without her. Or rather, knowing that she was there, and yet unable to live within its walls as comfortably as normal. When the days didn't seem so heavy, and they would sit together at a table to tell stories. Exchanging tidbits of their lives wrapped in tiny packages where the rest of the world didn't have to exist for them to be happy. Now his back was pressed up against the wood, letting it contour to his tired body, looking up at the unlit ceiling with a sense of loss. Like a drain running on its last bits of water.

Everything was quiet, as long as he pretended he could not hear the tearing in his mother's throat as her sickness came to visit her. The timing was terrible, and he worried this was some sort of karma that he accumulated. And he wished for a moment, that he hadn't told so many lies, that he hadn't kept some people safe, just so that his mother would be well… But then he thinks that is terrible wish, so he dashes everything away with a palm at the side of his eyes.

He wandered around the house for a little while, picking up the pieces of a dinner he ate alone, the ends of the bread from his work. It must have been the weather, he thought, because the world was slow, and relentless. As he recalls years before, he wonders how he could have mustered up the energy to be excited for something so trivial.

Echoes from those years pull at his muscles like strings, and soon Kouichi finds his way onto a couch to rest himself. Though a hand clutching his heart wouldn't be enough to stop his spirit from falling away from him, he still holds on in futile hope. Maybe he can stay to watch over his mother in his dreams, he thinks, before being carried away.

The darkness greeted him with open arms as always. He went towards it without hesitation, becoming a part of that endless existence. And he drifted happily for a while, until his soul met another.

"Hello, Kouichi."

It is less of a voice, and more of a feeling. Something he understood so intrinsically, it was as if he himself had thought it. And he smiled.

"Hello, Spirit."


	2. Part 2

Part 2

* * *

"Kouichi…"

The sound echoed in his chest rather than his ears, pulling his attention to the darkness surrounding him.

"Spirit."

From the depths, a figure took shape. Tall and humanoid, and Kouichi offered a smile at the familiarity of it. But the hope and happiness welling up inside him was paralyzed by an eerie red light. The warm iris of Lowemon's instead chilled him in his bones, unassured by the darkness snaking at his sides.

Kouichi stopped breathing as more eyes opened up to stare at him, wide and red-lined, appearing on the other's armor. Kouichi recognized it before the creature could fully form, staring at them sternly.

"Duskmon… ?"

Said spirit turned his head away, all of his eyes gazing off into the distance. Yet still Kouichi felt the stare like hot iron wrapped around his skin, unwilling to let him out of its hold. He breathed out harshly.

"The spirits — what happened!?"

He breath came with a hot puff of steam, heart quickening when the corrupted spirit seemed to pay him no mind. Kouichi honestly wanted to shout and cry in confusion, blaming himself, when he realized that his emotions were getting the better of him. So he clenched his teeth in order not to yell and blinked away the hotness behind his eyes.

"The true spirits of darkness were unlocked, weren't they?" He asked with a barely-wavering voice. "They were purified! So how?"

His panting seemed to finally reach the warrior, who simply moved a dragon gauntlet into his line of sight, turning it to examine the details. Kouichi took a step backwards as Duskmon unsheathed a certain crooked red blade, the sound of it sliding down his throat like ice.

"I don't understand…" the boy admitted with a small voice, curling his fingers to keep his hands from shaking. He couldn't look at his counterpart, at the sword that had done so much damage. He couldn't look at himself who so much anger and sadness inside them that made Kouichi's thudding heartbeat ache.

"What can I do…?" he asked to himself, letting his eyes slip closed to combat despair from surrounding him. The darkness was starting to hurt and Kouichi honestly feared that he didn't have the power to stop it.

_"Everything's alright,"_

A voice echoed through him, familiar, yet far away. Kouichi opened his eyes and looked to Duskmon leveling the blade in his face. The boy didn't flinch.

_"I'll be with you now,"_

Kouichi drew in a breath as the demon lifted the blood-colored sword and crashed it down upon him. He woke in a sweat to the calm world in his living room. Everything in its place, accompanied by a soft stream of sunlight. His mother's coughing could be heard from down the hallway, the only sound other than Kouichi's own staccato breaths. The boy held a hand to his heart, sitting up and orienting himself in the plane of consciousness.

His chest thudded with some strange and familiar weight which pulled his head down into his palms to hold himself within the confines of legs pulled up beneath him. It hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt, he decided…

to do anything otherwise was to reject an integral part of him.


End file.
